RL Fic Exchange: Road Home
by katiedv
Summary: What if fic. Takes place after Rory and Logan's fight in 7.08 - Introducing Lorelai Planetarium. Written for the RL Fic Exchange. Four chapters - complete.
1. Anger

Part of the First Annual RL Fic Exchange. This fic was written for Sarah (Mooncat), whom I hope enjoys and thinks I did her prompt justice. I tried to be faithful to her prompt as much as I could. The fic is 4 chapters long, and at the end of the last I will post the prompt for everyone to see.

Big thank you to Nicole for walking through the plotting process with me, and to Tati for always being such an awesome beta. :)

Enjoy!

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_"Rory, watch out!"_

_"Aghhhh!"_

**Anger**

_"Screw you, Logan."_

She'd walked out of the loft an hour ago, and he was still fuming. The fact that she felt she could throw his lifestyle in his face, and not consider that it would upset him, was infuriating. And then on top of it, she feigned surprise as his reaction started to unravel. And her own indignation at his angry outburst pissed him off all over again. What right did she have to be mad at him for throwing back in her face what she'd thrown at him? At least he'd proudly owned up to it. Instead, she'd gotten defensive and tried to backtrack the meaning of her words.

_It was meant to be funny…__But you were making fun of these people all night…__I didn't judge_**_everyone_**_…__That's not what I meant…__I didn't think you would take it personally…__It's not like I live off a $5 million trust fund that my parents set up for me…_

Sure. All excuses to make herself come out of it smelling like roses. She completely failed to include herself as a part of the demographic she had written about, and proceeded to attempt to be apologetic about her opinions.

He jumped on the recently made bed, not caring of how neatly she'd arranged the pillows over the partially exposed decorative sheets. It was too fucking early, and she'd been so hyped up on coffee that the last three hours of sleep hadn't been much rest to him as he heard her type away. So maybe catching another hour's sleep wouldn't be so bad.

He got under the covers again, beautifully made bed be damned, and attempted to fall back asleep. Once there, he found himself unable to stop tossing and turning, too riled up from the argument, and too wound up from the cup and a half of coffee. It didn't help matters when once he was able to lie still and close his eyes, all he could think about was Rory's criticisms.

_It's not like I live off a $5 million trust fund that my parents set up for me…_

Those words. They ate at him. Fine, that might have been the case when he was younger and having fun those last few moments of unrestricted freedom in his hands, but he'd worked – hard – since he'd left for London. There had been no time for fun and games. He had taken his position seriously, the need to remain in his father's good graces important in order to secure his hasty return stateside. To ensure he was only away from home for as long as it was necessary and not a day more.

It was part of the fine print in the Huntzberger heir contract, signed with the blood of his umbilical cord. There were be moments of acute distress in that role, from very early on. The only benefit that came with the role was the trust fund, and the liberties it allowed him. He'd never made a secret of that to her. He'd always exposed that as an ingrained part of himself, a part that she'd up till now always seemed to accept. He did not understand where her sudden judgment and opinions stemmed from, when she so clearly knew he was a part of that world, and she was too, even before meeting him. While there was a time where she had much less than what she enjoyed now, she'd certainly learned to transition without much fuss.

Truth was, it hurt that she could have such unfavorable views of him, and that she'd as soon classify him as she would wash her hands of having anything to do with that kind of society. The piece had been a soundboard for her, and along with everything, she'd now also made her views public.

Logan decided it was best to get up and shower. There was no way he was going to be able to catch up on sleep for today. He didn't bother making the bed, or even arranging the covers or pillows, leaving everything a tangled mess. Even in the shower he couldn't get their argument out of his head. He kept going back to how she'd expressed her opinions.

But she had apologized – immediately. Logan thought back to how she'd defended the point she'd attempted to make, which was far from the point he accused her of expressing. Knowing Rory, she was never one to make such disparaging remarks, much less so carelessly and openly. He wanted to believe her apology. She'd said it so sincerely, but instead he'd counterstriked, hit her where he knew it would hurt. In reality, it had been unnecessary. There was no need for an even playing field. Livid as he was, he could have accepted that apology and waited for his ire to subside, instead of running her out of _their_ home. Their home, because he'd made sure it remained their home while he was away these months. There was nothing he wanted to change about their arrangement. No reason for saying what he'd said to her.

Maybe going out for a walk would be a good thing. That way, when they both walked back into the loft, they'd both likely had gotten the aggression of the argument out of their systems, and would be ready to kiss and make up.

With all the stress he'd gone through recently, the last thing he wanted out of this weekend was to go back to London while they were barely speaking to Rory. He'd already lost time today with this whole stupid argument when he'd hoped to go apartment hunting after spending some quality time with her. If he chose to, it'd give him a whole other reason to be pissed with her, but he figured it wouldn't be worth it. It would be one more day lost when he could have spent it being productive. He had so little time that getting irate with her would only cause him more hold ups to other things he needed to be sure were done.

When he came home after a couple of drinks at the pub and a run to the store, he'd been expecting to find her in the living room with a book open and a highlighter in her hand. He didn't find her, though. He came home to an apartment that was as still and as quiet as when he'd left it.

He thought to himself for a moment. He could chose to get mad all over again – this time at how passive aggressive she was acting, on top of judgmental, or he could chose to look at things with a more even-tempered perspective and apologize when she came home, with a peace offering in the form of food on the table.

He went to the kitchen drawer where she kept her take out menus, and pulled out the one he was looking for. Indian food. He was actually in the mood for Italian, and he'd prefer Thai if they had to do curry. But last night she'd been craving it, and had to go to bed without it because of the hour they'd finally made it home.

After calling in the order, he figured he'd walk to pick it up and stop by the flower shop to get Rory a pretty bouquet to go along with her dinner. When he walked back in the door and tried to hang his jacket, he realized she'd moved the coat rack, and was suddenly irate about it. Had it bothered her so much where he had placed it outside of the hallway but next to the door? After doing a 360 degree turn he realized she'd moved it to the other side of the door, inside the entering hallway.

He took a deep breath. The coat rack was in a good place, probably more out of the way now. It was only reasonable that she would move a few things to a location that pleased her more, and made the loft space more comfortable to her needs. It was her home, after all. A home he didn't her out of, no matter what asinine choice of words he'd used. He took the time to take another deep breath, and then another. Had he been picking a stupid fight with her? Since when had he been this irritable with such irrelevant, unimportant shit?

He noticed he'd been annoyed with her before she'd arrived to the party the night before. And that she'd thought of making the bed while he was in the bathroom that morning, when what he wanted to do was to get back under the covers with her. He'd been getting annoyed with her since he arrived from London.

He sighed. In all fairness, he had been a tad hyper-sensitive. Especially considering how she had apologized through his rant, insisting that it wasn't her intention to offend, and that it hadn't been her point. He'd dissected every phrase and word out of her, and twisted it to serve his argument against her.

What had he done? No wonder she hadn't come home. The reality of the whole situation hit him. He'd been a total and complete jackass to her. He wouldn't want to come home to him, either. He pulled out his phone and proceeded to call her.


	2. Worry

**Worry**

Logan threw out the empty take-out containers, putting what was left in the refrigerator. If he'd known his peace offering in the form of her favorite Indian take-out would go to waste, he would have ordered Italian instead. Now he had to deal with the digestive ramifications of picking such a stupid fight with her when he was only here for a couple of days. Oh well; sex after Indian food would have been uncomfortable anyway.

He pulled his old Deerfield sweats and made himself comfortable, as the day was coming to a close, and he could tell Rory was obviously trying to make a statement by not coming home at her usual time when she knew he was only here for a couple of days. Even she was writing off sex until god only knows when he'd be back in the states. He looked around the apartment at some of the changes she'd made and the stuff she'd put in storage. At least she'd known better than to store away his Play Station, although it seemed she did a pretty good job of hiding the games and controllers. He set himself up and began to play, although it was stupid _Ridge Racer 7_, since he couldn't find any of the other ones.

He was actually getting a little bored. This game was always better when played with someone else. At some point he turned to look at the clock and noticed how late it was. 9pm, and he was still on London time, not to mention the fact that he only got a few hours of sleep the night before.

It was late, and he was tired. Even more importantly, it was far too late for Rory to be out when she had no plans with anyone and hadn't been home since she left that morning. Granted, she was her own person, but even then it was common courtesy to let him know so he wouldn't worry. That way she could sulk until he came back in a few months, but at least he wouldn't be worried about where she was.

He called her cell phone again, but she didn't answer. It really should have pissed him off more that she was being this childish. What the hell was she doing out so late at night, when he only had two nights left in town? He thought about what she would do, and he honestly thought she wouldn't have chosen to sulk at home with him, but he would have preferred that to being worried and having had to eat all that Indian food by himself. This passive-aggressive crap was so like Rory, and damn him for being worried.

His worry had lessened once he called Paris and Doyle's, and found out Rory was out with her. He had to sit there and listen to Doyle for a full 30 minutes about his fight with Paris and the fact that he was worried because he had no idea where she was, and wasn't answering his calls. Logan decided to chance a verbal assault from Paris, so long as he could get confirmation that they were together and both were okay.

But Paris was refusing to answer his calls too, letting them roll to voice mail. So he decided to text her instead.

_Paris, answer the phone please. Where are you two? Doyle is crying because you won't answer…_ he texted.

_Fuck off you over-privileged, over-sensitive blondie_, she replied.

Clearly, she was her usual, pleasant self.

_Is that the best you can do?_ He taunted her.

She didn't reply, so he sent another text.

_Will you at least tell me that she's with you and in one piece?_ _ Has she had dinner already?_ It read.

He had to wait for a reply, but he eventually got one.

_We're at the pub, and if either of you come marching in, I will fuck you up._

He rolled his eyes and threw his phone on the bed. Ohh-kay. Clearly, they were both basking in their misery and hate for their boyfriends. Well, at least they weren't far from home, and they were keeping each other company. If they both chose to be mad at him and Doyle – both of whom held strong points in their arguments – then so be it. Maybe now he could stop being worried and go back to being mad at her. And now, he'd have three reasons for being mad at her: her article, her passive-aggressiveness in dealing with their fight, and not coming home to sleep when he was only here for such a short time.

But he learned Rory was with Paris, and frankly, Paris looked scary enough when you walked by her that he knew no one would dare approach them. Besides, Paris knew Krav Maga. If anyone with remotely shady intentions dared to get near Rory, he knew she'd fuck them up. Hell, she'd threatened to fuck him up just now.

Regardless, he wasn't going to stop worrying until she came home, even if she was with Paris. But at least he could catch up on sleep now. He was running on London time, and it was getting close to dawn there. He left a few of the lights on: the entrance, the one above the stove, and the bathroom light. It would piss her off, but he was lighting the way for her. She could turn the light in the entrance off after walking in, and she always took a vitamin before going to bed, and then of course she'd have to brush her teeth before getting into bed. So, he'd give her another reason to be all pissy at him. Served her right for not coming home.

At some point late into the night, he could hear something buzzing, and he realized his phone had landed on her pillow. Logan picked up his phone and looked at the number. He didn't recognize it and thought about just letting it go to voicemail, then thought better of it. "Hello?"

"Hello, could I please speak with Logan Huntzberger?" a tired, bored voice asked.

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"Sir, I'm calling you from Yale-New Haven Hospital to inform you that Rory Gilmore is here…"


	3. Panic

Okay, I was going to update one chapter a day, but Nicole talked me out of it. :P

And the fic honestly makes more sense when you read the whole thing. There's nothing special about any one chapter, but it comes together very nicely, so why else wait?

... I'm still debating on when to post the last chapter though. I've never posted a fic all at once, and I wanted to hold on to updates because it made me feel like I was being productive, lol. *sigh* We shall see if I post it tonight, or sometime tomorrow. For now, chapter three...

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**Panic**

_"Sir, I'm calling you from Yale-New Haven Hospital to inform you that Rory Gilmore is here…"_

It was the last thing he heard. He could hear the throbbing of his blood as he felt it drain from his head and flush back. He went through the motions of jumping out of bed, finding pants to wear, and dressing himself well enough to walk out of the loft.

It was once he started his car and started to pull out of the buildings garage with all its security, that his mind started to defog. Why hadn't he asked the woman what happened? He didn't even ask if Rory was okay! Clearly, she wasn't, or she wouldn't be in the hospital. His mind jumped at all the possible scenarios. He really should have gone to pick her up. Instead he'd chosen to mope around the loft waiting to see when Rory would grace him with her appearance.

Her car wasn't in the parking spot next to his, so she'd clearly been driving. And they'd been at the pub. Paris didn't have a car. Would Rory have driven drunk? It wasn't anything she'd clearly ever do in her right mind, but he wasn't sure he should put it past her given how upset she was when she left. Maybe she wouldn't have called a cab, thinking she was okay to drive. He'd seen her drink sitting down, and how she'd nearly trip on her own feet as soon as she stood up on the way to the bathroom. Paris would need a ride home; Rory would never let her walk home – not in that neighborhood.

Damnit! He really should have ignored Paris' drunk warning and gone to pick them up. He would have apologized to Rory for being so damn sensitive about something so stupid. She'd apologized to him, told him it wasn't her intention to offend, and even then he'd continued to blow up at her. He'd had dinner alone because he hadn't bothered to find out where she was earlier. And he hadn't gone looking for her when he knew he was the one that should have gone the extra length to apologize to her.

Rory was right; people did use connections to get ahead, and there was nothing negative in that, she just chose to mock the setting. He'd been the one that took the article out of context. He was the one that blew up their fight, going from her openly stating her thoughts and feelings about the people he did business with, to him throwing it in her face that she was being kept by him – which was well and beyond anything he wanted to make a statement about. He'd never given any of it a second thought. He'd only brought it up because he knew it would make her feel uncomfortable. She would never have stayed there if he hadn't insisted that it was their home and he expected her there until he could make it back. And he had to go on and be an asshole to prove a point that was neither here nor there.

He didn't want her to leave. The thought of the loft and her waiting there for him was what kept him going on from week to lonely week in London. And it was his asinine comment to her about their apartment that kept her from coming home safe today. When he woke up this morning, he had no other plans for the day besides spending it in bed ravishing her and making up for lost time. And now God only knew how she was and what had happened to her.

When he finally arrived at the hospital, his mind clouded up again. He pulled into the first spot he found without thinking to make a mental note of where he parked his car, or even what the woman at the check-in desk looked like. He was ordered to sit and wait until a nurse assistant came to get him. When he's finally escorted back, it was Paris he saw first. Paris, surrounded by two cops taking her statement.

"I don't even know where he came from!" she cried.

"Who did he approach first: you, or Miss Gilmore?" the female officer asked while her partner took notes.

"Rory. He went to snatch her purse." Paris drew in a deep breath. "I… I panicked. I don't remember what I did next, but I think I kicked him, and then he came after me."

Logan could feel his knees buckle at her admission. "Paris," Logan interrupted.

"Oh, my God, Logan," she sighed, before new tears burst from her eyes, relieved at seeing a familiar face.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"This guy attacked us," she sobbed.

Now, not only did he feel his knees buckle, he could feel the blood pooling at his feet.

They'd been attacked. Rory had been attacked. The one situation he'd discarded as unlikely had happened. He could have avoided all of this, and he did nothing but sit and mope. He'd snickered at her passive-aggressiveness at home while she was being mugged. He couldn't begin to imagine what happened to Rory – he did not want to imagine. As scared and panicked as he'd been at the thought of her being hurt in a car accident, it was nothing compared to her being physically attacked. Seeing the lacerations to Paris' face made it more real to him.

"Sir?" the nurse assistant called his attention.

He was walked over to a closed off area and asked to take a seat outside her room.

"The orthopedic surgeon is with her now. They'll come out as soon as they're done." She noticed how apprehensive he was as he observed the closed door. "Don't worry. She's going to be okay," she reassured him, kindness in her eyes. He nodded at her before she left him alone to his thoughts.

Guilt and anger overwhelmed him. Except now the anger was directed at himself. He wanted to be angry at the nameless, faceless attacker, but his guilt brought him back to his own fault in all this. If he hadn't picked such a stupid fight with Rory; if he'd instead chosen to ignore her request to read her article and instead had opted to spend a day in bed making up for lost time. He could have chosen to ignore Paris and marched into the pub to pick Rory up so he could apologize. He blamed her for her passive-aggressive ways, and he'd taken part in the same game that whole day.

It was a private room. For some reason, she was so badly hurt that she had to be placed in a private room. He could hear some muffled noises coming from inside the room. And then, a bloodcurdling cry.


	4. Relief

With this chapter, the fic is officially completed. I think it ties everything very nicely. At the end you will be able to read my prompt, and judge for yourselves if I followed it loyally, which I hope you think I did.

Thank Nicole (evenangelsfall) for getting this chapter now. We made a deal that we would each update again if the other did. So this is me keeping up with my end of the bargain. And if you're not yet reading (which I doubt) go read Martini's and Mistletoe! Such an awesome fic all around! We haven't had an RL fic as perfect as this one in a while, and I can't wait for her to finish it! (coughintcough)

I want to thank Nicole and Tatiana for all their help and input in this fic. I hadn't written RL in so long, but the process was fun with them. :) And, Sarah. I hope you enjoyed the fic! :)

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**Relief**

The first time that she could remember waking up, it was in their bed, back at home, propped up in pillows and neatly tucked in. Startled, she tried snapping up into a sitting position, but the pain held her back.

"Shh, Ace, don't move." He was at her side in seconds, brushing her bangs away from her eyes.

"Logan," she sighed, closing her eyes in relief. She was home, and he was taking care of her. "How did I get here?" she wondered groggily, without really thinking of what she was saying.

It was the nth time he answered the same question. "I brought you back home after they released you."

"Released me?"

"From the hospital," he reminded her.

She stopped to think again. "Oh, right," she remembered. "Why is my arm in a sling? I don't have a cast on…" she yawned.

Logan couldn't help but laugh to himself. Every time she woke through the night, it had been the same questions, always in the same order. Then she would doze off to sleep again, and the cycle would be repeated when she woke up. "You had a dislocated shoulder. The orthopedic surgeon popped it right back in. Do you not remember any of this?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"No…"

He got up off the bed and walked over to the kitchen to pick up her breakfast tray. "Really? As badly as you screamed, I wouldn't be surprised if your parents heard you all the way in Star's Hollow. I've never heard anyone scream like that, and I don't ever want to hear it again."

"I screamed?" she wondered.

"You did." He prepared her coffee, just the way she liked it, and then added extra syrup to her waffles.

"The orthopedic surgeon? I needed surgery?" she asked, not knowing how many times he'd already answered that question for her.

"No, thankfully you didn't. But you will need a lot of rest and physical therapy." He placed the tray at the foot of the bed, then walked to her and put another pillow behind her to sit her up for breakfast. He noticed her fidget. "Ah-ah-ah, no moving. You're not supposed to move that arm for the next few weeks." He tucked the end of a napkin to the front of her nightgown.

"Who dressed me? Did you dress me?" she asked.

The purple cashmere sweater she'd been wearing the day before was gone. She was now wearing a soft cotton nightgown with spaghetti straps. There was a matching robe to it, but Logan had helped her out of it in the middle of the night after she became too warm.

"The nurses at the hospital dressed you. When you were handed back to me you were all dressed and ready to go." He cut a piece of waffle and fed it to her.

"They did?" Clearly, she was still very confused. He gave her a drink of coffee, hoping she would slowly start to regain her senses with her usual morning jolt of caffeine. "How did they get my pajamas?"

"Well, they had to cut off your sweater, so before they released you I ran back home to get you something comfortable to wear. I figured this was the easiest thing to dress you in. Open," he ordered her as he offered her another bite.

"They cut off my sweater?" she asked as she chewed on her breakfast. She did this, always repeating what he had said in the form of a question, obviously trying to grasp what had happened in those hours she'd been knocked out. "Hey, I really liked that sweater," she complained, an obvious sign that her mental capacities were slowly returning.

He changed the topic, knowing time was limited. "Your parent's are going to be here soon. I figured I'd let you sleep through the night before calling Lorelai. I haven't told her what happened. I didn't want to scare her."

It was all it took, the mention of her mother's name, for her to snap back into reality. "Oh."

He reached under the bed and pulled out the plastic bag the police officers had given him with her belongings. From it, he pulled out the tattered pink Birkin bag and held what was left of it up for her to inspect. "Unfortunately, that laptop of yours wasn't salvageable."

"I'm so sorry, Logan," she burst into tears.

He went to sit by her, and pulled her hands to his lips, kissing them tenderly. "No-no, sweetie, don't cry," he soothed her.

"I'm so sorry. That was a gift from you, and I should have been more careful."

Logan laughed, because after last night, a $20,000 purse didn't hold as much value as the life and safety of his girlfriend. And if she had to use it to beat an attacker off, then those were the best $20,000 he ever spent. He wiped away her tears, "Hey, no crying over a purse. I'll buy you another one – hell, I'll buy you twenty of them, so long as you're safe. You're what's important, Rory. I can replace the purse, but there's no replacing you," he kissed her, grateful that she was alive and well enough to kiss. "And I actually think it's a great idea for you to carry your laptop and computer cords in there," he teased.

She gasped, unsure of whether to laugh or cry at being found out. She opted for both, unable to stop from joining his laughter, and hoping the tears would earn his forgiveness for the misuse of such a special present. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I know you told me that wasn't what it was for, but my other computer purse was torn, and I haven't had the time to go shopping for a new one, and I needed to carry my laptop with me…" she rambled on.

"I promise, Ace, that was the last time I try to dictate what you can carry in your purse." He scoffed. "No man has any business telling a woman what she can and can't carry in her luxury leather goods. I don't know what I was thinking," he continued teasing her. "Sweetie, stop crying," he told her. He set the food tray on the floor and scooted into bed with her, carefully pulling her into an embrace. "Why don't you tell me about how you heroically fought off an attacker with a high end purse? I'll take notes and share them with Paris. Apparently, she wasn't scary enough to fend off an attack. Which, ironically, was what I'd figured would keep you safe out at night with her. She also needs to learn how to stay out of the way of flying computer cords. You fucked her up pretty good, but I hear the other guy got worse..."

Rory laughed. Paris, with all of her Krav Maga techniques and knowledge, should have been the hero of the night. Instead, they owed it all to a Birkin bag with a laptop in it.

"I mean, I don't know what happened. We'd been sitting at the pub for a while. Paris was wallowing about this stupid argument she'd had with Doyle, and since she'd heard me out, I thought it would be rude of me to cut her off and tell her I was ready to come home just because I was done talking. And then by the time we left it was dark, and she was drunk, and I wasn't going to leave her alone like that."

Logan nodded, letting her know he was following.

"And then next thing I know I'm walking her up to her apartment, and then she screams–"

"And you start swinging your purse blindly?" Logan interrupted, trying to bring some humor into the situation.

"Well, no. I felt a hard yank on my arm."

He went pale at the thought, because as much as he wanted to forget that she'd been in any danger, it had been a close call. He'd never been religious, but he'd been in silent prayer thanking God she was alright ever since they'd let him in to see her at the hospital. If he hadn't picked that stupid argument with her, and said the stupid things he said, she would have spent the day with him, at home, safe. Or if he'd gone to pick them up like his gut had told him to. There were so many things he could have changed to avoid all of this. He could reason that it was circumstantial, and that she and Paris were just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but his guilt would never let him forget that it was a stupid argument that he had started which drove her from the safety of their home.

"And then, I don't know what Paris did, but she managed to throw him off me," she continued. "And then when he was going after her, I just remember hitting him in the back of the head with my purse."

"So you only hit him once?" he asked.

"Well, no. I don't remember when I stopped swinging, but I kept at it until I couldn't. It's all kind of a blur though…"

He sighed heavily. This was as much as he wanted to know. He didn't want to hear any more of it, so he changed the conversation.

"Ace, I need to apologize to you. It wasn't my place to judge what you wrote, and I was just being over-sensitive about it and said things I didn't mean."

Rory took a deep breath and looked down. "Yeah, well, it's your apartment."

"Rory," he sighed, remembering his words. "I'm so sorry I said that. I was way out of line. I just… I love it that you're here. You know that I love it that you're here. I was just upset."

"Yeah, well, you had every right to be. The things I wrote were kind of awful," she rationalized.

"It wasn't awful, I was just being over-sensitive…"

"No, it was awful. And it was mean and judgmental. And I should have thought of that before, because it gave you the impression that that's what I thought of you, which isn't true."

"Well, you don't have to approve of everything I do…"

"But that's just the thing; I do. I'm so proud of you and everything that you've done. And that article was just the opposite of what I think about you."

"Well, then I think that makes us even. You wrote something you didn't mean, and I said things I didn't mean. And now we've both taken them back, and don't need to discuss this any further." He kissed her for good measure, and officially dismissing their argument.

"I did decide something, though. I think it'll be best if I move out. I don't want–"

"No, you're not," Logan cut her off. "You're not going anywhere, Rory."

"But I don't want you thinking–"

"Ah-ah-ah…" he interrupted her. "No, I don't want _you_ thinking." He sighed before speaking again, but when he did he made sure they were looking deep into each other's eyes. "I need you to forget I ever said it, cause I didn't mean it."

"But–"

"Ah-ah-ah!" he cut her off again.

"Will you listen to me?"

"No. I refuse to listen to any nonsense about you moving out of our home."

Rory sighed, a little frustrated, but with a sense of happiness at him calling the loft _our home_. When she spoke again she did it slowly, hoping that with a softer tone she'd at least be able to present her point of the argument.

"I just… I never wanted you to think that I was taking advantage of you."

"I know you weren't," he replied in that same, quiet tone he used to let her know he knew they were having a serious conversation.

"And when I first moved in here, it was under extenuating circumstances. I mean, it was only supposed to be until the end of the semester, and I've been here almost six months after that. That wasn't the plan. I don't even know how or when we came to that arrangement."

"We came to that arrangement because I actually like it, knowing that you are home safe and taken care of while I'm exiled. The only peace of mind I had when I left was that you and our home would be taken care of until I could come back. This became our home, Rory. I don't want you to leave because I was being an asshole, and said something because I was trying to make a stupid point and had ran out of things to prove it. I mean, if you leave, then what and where am I coming back home to?"

"But you're getting your own place in Manhattan," Rory pointed out.

"Yeah, I thought better about that. I mean, I never liked the idea of living so close yet so far, after being apart all these months."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'll just take the train," he said simply.

"But it's almost a two hour train ride."

"It'll give me an hour and forty minutes to do work. That way I don't have to spend as many hours in the office, or as many hours at home doing work," he rationalized.

"Hmm," Rory said pensively. "I still don't know if that's being at all realistic…"

"Well then we'll re-evaluate in a few months. If anything, then we'll just have two places. The loft here, and an apartment in the city until you're done with school. I know you don't know where you're going to land after graduation, but New York City wouldn't be a bad place to be."

New York City. Where she would be if she got that fellowship with _The New York Times_. No, New York City would not be a bad place to be after graduation. She sighed. In the end, she wasn't so sure what to think of his proposition. "I don't know how your family might like that…" Rory pointed out.

"Rory, my family doesn't like a lot of things, and in my 24 years I've yet to let that influence _anything_ that I do. Come on, you're not going to tell me that's what's going to be a deciding factor in all this."

Rory sighed. "Yeah, that's true. But, I mean, what will your dad think when he sees you're not spending as many hours at the office because you're trying to make it home all the way out here, when you can have a home all the way out there?"

It was Logan's turn to sigh. "Rory, my dad travels all over the place. He of all people knows you can't always live close to where you work. Besides, I think he approves of you."

"He does?" She asked, surprised, and he nodded. "How do you know?"

"Because, he's told me," he smirked, remembering their conversation. "He actually told me that you were the best thing that could have happened to my career, because you set the bar high. He said he doubts you'd ever date an underachiever for this long."

Rory had to laugh, because she had dated those – two out of three to be exact. In fact, it used to be three out of three until a year ago when she'd moved in with him. With all the studying she did, he had no choice but to crack a book open every now and then.

"Well, wouldn't you coming back home here every day place you at risk for underachievement when your whole focus should be on your new project?"

"Nah. Besides, I already talked to my dad and told him I wouldn't be making it back to London after this weekend so I can take care of you. And, I'm staying a whole two weeks with you."

"You are?" Rory beamed.

Logan nodded. "I'm going to take care of you. I'll still have work, but I'll be doing that from home. I was going to get ready to move back from London anyway, so most of my work there was done."

"But doesn't that mean that you'll be delaying your project out here in New York? Won't your dad be mad?"

"None of that matters. What's important is that you're okay. You took time off and made sure I was taken care of after my accident. Now it's my turn to return the favor."

She sighed, relieved that they could put both their argument and this incident behind them. "I love you, Logan."

"I love you too, Ace. More than you can imagine." He bent down for a kiss, which he could feel her deepening, and knew he should be careful and not get carried away, lest he hurt her in the process.

It was an incessant knocking on the door that interrupted their sweet, intimate moment.

"That must be your parents. Let me go get that." He kissed her forehead before trying to get up and going to the door. She pulled him down with her good arm for slow kiss. "So we're good?"

"We're good," she confirmed before kissing him again.

"So you forgive me for talking out of my ass and saying things I don't mean?"

"I do."

"So no more talk of you moving out of our home?" She shook her head. "You promise?"

"I promise."

At this point Lorelai was going to knock the door down if the pounding continued for much longer. He finally got up to answer the door, grateful and relieved that they could start putting all this behind them.

As soon as Logan opened the door, Lorelai rushed in, eyes closed and her arms extended in front of her. "Are they decent? Are you guys decent? It took you long enough to answer that door."

"Yeah, they're decent," Christopher answered back.

Lorelai opened her eyes, knowing the coast was clear. "Oh, my baby! Oh, my little baby!" she cried dramatically, rushing past Logan. She sat on the bed very gently, noticing how Rory's arm was on a sling. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" she asked more seriously.

Rory looked behind Lorelai to meet Logan's eyes. She smiled at him before looking back at Lorelai. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you broken? Is anything broken?"

"Nothing's broken – wait," she interrupted herself. "_Is_ anything broken?" she asked Logan.

"Nothing's broken," he assured them. "But she will need physical therapy. And that arm must remain immobile for a few weeks."

"What happened? Was it a bar fight, or did Paris try to use you as a Krav Maga dummy?" Rory opened her mouth to speak, but Lorelai stopped her. "Wait, don't answer! Were you guys doing something naughty and dirty? Because if that's the case, I'd really rather not know."

"There was nothing dirty!" Rory insisted.

"Oh, so it was naughty?" Lorelai raised her hands to cover her ears.

"There was nothing naughty!"

"Oh, well, good. I mean, I have to ask, given your choice of bed-wear. I have to assume that you two would have been making up for lost time…"

"Mom!"

Lorelai gasped, looking at the destroyed purse at the foot of the bed. "Hey! What happened to my friend Nanette?"

"You ask about Nanette's fate before my own?" Rory asked in mock reproach.

"Well, I don't know what your little incident was, and you look like you've been put back into one piece. Nanette looks like she's seen better days and is ready to be laid to rest, and far too early, I might add."

"Well, Nanette is going to be sent to Hermes Purse Spa so they can put her back together. Can I get you guys some coffee?" Logan offered, knowing once those two got going with the madness and their banter there would be no way of getting a word in.

"Can we trust him with the coffee?" Lorelai asked. "He's not going to water it down or use decaf, is he?"

"He knows better," Rory assured her.

"Alright, Blondie. I'll accept some of your coffee."

When he walked over to hand Lorelai her coffee, he found that as his opportunity to see himself and Christopher out. "You know, I'm going to head to the store to pick up some things for lunch. Maybe your dad can come with me."

He always did that. He just knew her so well that he could always anticipate what she might need at any given moment. Even while so far away, they were still so in-tune to one another.

"Be safe," she raised her lips to meet his.

"I will. I think Nanette needs to recover before we put her to the test again." He pulled away. "Lorelai, I leave you in your house. Feel free to take care of my girl as if she was your own. We'll be home in an hour."

_Home_. It felt good to have a home with her to come back to.

~*~

Prompt:

Sorry, no fluff from me, au contraire - oh well, a little at the end is okay. I'd like a fic placed in season 6 or season 7 (not afterwards!). Logan POV mostly, others are allowed. R/L had a fight (for example, but doesn't have to be: Jess-mess, the Bridesmaid disaster, the Marty dinner, the high society party article, the Logan runs away from his problems after his big business crash, or one we never had. If you use one of the show's fights, it will go AU from there on). Still mad, Logan's at first not worried when it takes damn long for Rory to come home, thinking she's sulking away. But then he gets nervous and starts to worry. Soon, he just knows something's wrong. And he's right. Rory's been attacked (by Marty, Jess, a teacher, a madman, don't care) and hurt (you don't have to go to all extremes like rape or life-threatening things if you don't want. A cut on the lips or scratches, a bruise or something like that is enough).

So, in your story show the process from anger to worry to panic, him finding out about the attack and rushing to her/finding her (all up to you) and then taking care of her while dealing with the fallout and his own rage against the attacker. I'd prefer a happy ending, but hey, some things are all up to you.


End file.
